Touch You Last

Really should be a Wasted Time post, but really, I'm only two sheets to the wind so I'm dropping my rhymes here. (Note: there will be no rhymes.) There's a few other things I can promise you there won't be, such as a Best Of list, or a list of my resolutions. Especially the last because, let's face it, the best resolutions are the deep, dark, secret ones. Those of the I'll not be a failure next year variety. All I'll say about the past year is goodbye and good riddance to two thousand and shit (while nothing horrible befell me personally, it was a fucking disaster to everyone I know). You know, I've just changed my mind. This wasn't meant to be a doom and gloom entry, so it won't be. I also wasn't going to talk about 2007 aspirations, but I will. But first I'll get another drink... Now then. I feel strangely optimistic about next year. No, strange doesn't quite do it. Remarkably optimistic is more accurate. Around t...

From our family, to yours.

And finally, the best links I’ve stumbled across or been sent over the past couple of days: Words Oldest Blogger – Writes his posts in longhand , then mails it to his computer-saavy relatives who post it for him . -- Props - Boing Boing The 10 Most Dangerous Toys of All Time -- props - Adam The Year in Media Errors and Corrections -- Props - kottke Great Moments in Pissed Off Performers Walking Off Stage – The Nickleback story is killer . -- Props - Me

I’m trying this experiment right now that combines writing, checking out what’s new on everyone’s blog, and watching a movie all on the same screen. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t totally freaking me out and giving me a punishing headache, which isn't to say I’m not enjoying it. I’m a terrible multitasker, really. I can compartmentalize my time throughout the day and ensure a number of tasks get done, but I have great difficulty literally doing two things at the same time. I can’t write while listening to music; I can’t talk on a cellphone and walk at the same time. I’d like to say what I’m doing right now is challenging, but I’m not really doing it. I’m watching the movie in snatches, then writing in bursts, then going back to the flick. It’s taken me twenty minutes just to get this much down. I’ve wanted to do this since I started reading Moriarty’s DVD Shelf (which has been dead for months, but the archives are still worth checking out). Moriarty is a ...

Indie Bloggers . Check it out. It involves Kris , and all things good involve Kris.

To make up for a lack of action around these parts, I offer the first of many micro-posts that will appear tonight. Have we all listened to Do They Know It's Christmas lately? I mean listened to the words? I'd always thought "Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears" was far and away the most overwrought, song-spoiling line in the song, but only just the other day, I heard what followed: "And the only bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of DOOM! " Who fucking wrote that bit? Sting? I blame Sting.

By this point, I've leaked this list to so many people that I'd started to believe I already had posted the final lineup here. I was wrong. And I've been so inattentive here in general that Blog Services will be knocking on my door to take this poor, neglected site away from me any day now. Anyhow, here's the final list. Order is certain, exact times haven't been calculated yet: On the Waterfront Dirty Harry Duck Soup Way of the Gun Battle District B13 Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control Forbidden Planet The Big Lebowski Oldboy The Descent Roadhouse I Heart Huckabees I promise to be back here before Christmas with a little something. Or a little sumpin sumpin.

Sarah has long affirmed that we will never get a dog. That was until we walked by a pet store while grocery shopping and saw one of these: That, my friends, is a puggle . The one in the pet store must have been six weeks old, and about the size my shoe. So. Very. Cute. Don't get excited, we're still never going to get a dog, but Sarah entertained the idea for at least twelve seconds. Word to puggle owners: Sarah is willing to rent one for upwards of $90 an hour.

Does anyone else feel like there’s a Journey renaissance going on right now? I can’t remember a day in the last two weeks where I haven’t heard either “Any Way You Want It,” “Wheel in the Sky,” “Only the Lonely,” Don't Stop Believin',” or “Oh Sherry” (and yeah, nitpickers, I know that last one’s just Steve Perry, but whatever). Every day. And if I’m not hearing it, I’m reading about it . It’s not omnipresent—it’s not like when you hear four Duran Duran songs on the radio in quick succession and automatically conclude that Simon Lebon has died—it’s just constant. I have mostly my iPod to blame. I’ve been obsessed with trying to fill its near-limitless capacity, throwing—among other things—Journey’s Greatest Hits on there (which is more Sarah’s than mine). Since then, the Random button doesn’t seem all that random. I think whoever wrote the algorithm for that is probably the biggest fucking Journey fan in the world. There’s probably four other random bands that ...